Sugar's Dora Party

(This is actually posting a long time after I started writing it!)

Sugar is two years old! Hard for her mommy to believe some moments and very real in others.

Smack in the middle of her "Dora" phase, Sugar got a Dora party...much like her older sister's fourth birthday. Dora plates, cupcakes, and lots of Dora presents. It took Sugar a few tries to get the hang of opening presents...but once she got it she really got it. (Actually, just yesterday, she decided to open one of the Christmas presents under the tree...wasn't hers...but looked fun to open). The trick on her birthday was getting Sugar's older siblings to let her open her own presents. I think they were the most excited of all of us.

Happy Birthday, Sugar!!

The Cutting of the Tree

Year 5. 2007.

I can't believe that this year marks the fifth year we have treked to the mountains near Pine, Colorado to roam through the woods and collect our own, slightly lop-sided, but decidedly unique Christmas tree.

I still have the picture of our first adventure displayed in the living room. Slugger, at 1 1/2 years, sitting on a tree stump in the middle of the pine forest (no snow to be seen). This year, Sugar, at almost 2 years, is older than he was then. How have 5 years skipped so quickly by?

This years hunt was highly successful by Wild Rose's family standards. We bagged our tree quickly, probably within 30 minutes of looking. We actually roamed around an extra 15 minutes after finding a pretty good tree at first looking, just to say we had really "looked". LT didn't have to carry the tree up any major hills and tells me it is much lighter than some of our first year's picks. We did end up cutting off at least 4 feet just to get it into our living room. It is sticking up into the last available inch of skylight in the slightly vaulted ceiling. But, lights are strung, ornaments are hung, and Sparkle has declared it "beautiful". All is well.

We had fun eating breakfast with 30+ friends and heading up caravan style to the mountains. Thanks to our brave friends who hosted all of us for morning munchies this year! The tradition would not be nearly as much fun without the crazy lot of dear friends we go adventuring with. Somehow, we got elected (in our absence) to be the "leaders" of the caravan. The pressure! Having to choose a pull off spot where 10 cars or so could pull off too and find good tree hunting was intimidating. But, all was well. We found a spot, did some treking, sledding and general playing around. We drank hot chocolate, a little brandy, and ate some slightly chilly graham crackers. In all seriousness, I love the cutting of the Christmas tree. A toast of hot chocolate to wishing for many, many, many more years to come.

Littleton History Museum

About a month ago, before there was snow on the ground, Sparkle had her preschool's annual field trip to the Littleton Historic Museum. For the first time in several years, the weather was actually not rainy or snowy. The last several years the field trip has gotten postponed until the spring. I guess I should explain that it is a largely OUTSIDE museum, with two working farms from the 1800's. They have volunteers dressed as pioneers who are farming, weaving, and blacksmithing. They have various farm animals: turkeys, cows, pigs, sheep. It is a charming place...although I admit to being slightly less enamored with it after having gone at least 10 times in the last 5 years. However, it is particularly beautiful in the fall with the harvest in and the leaves changing.

Sparkle and her class - Look Geese!

Sugar and I tagged along for this field trip. The kids climbed on wagons, used hay bales for a jungle gym, and generally ran around and had a good time. Usually, my favorite part is seeing the blacksmith transform a lump of metal into a crude nail, but this time around he wasn't on duty. We did get to see two women spinning the wool (from the sheep on the farm) into thread on an old-fashioned spinning wheel. I am really glad I can just go buy a wool sweater at Kohl's. Know what I mean? Fascinating how much work it took to do....well, EVERYTHING.

Sisters.

A day well spent.

Sugar & Dora

Ok...This makes me laugh on a regular basis.

Sugar has developed a clear love for "Dora the Explorer". This love began with her sister's 4th birthday party (a Dora party), and has continued to grow for the last 6 months. In the store, she notices everything, and I do mean everything, with a Dora logo on it. She currently has a Dora towel, toothbrush, and sippy cup. "My Dora" coming from her mouth could reference any of these items.

For all of you who are ignorant of the "Dora" age... here are the basics: On each show, Dora (who speaks both Spanish and English) and her monkey sidekick, Boots, set off on an adventure, following a three-step map through various entanglements, until they reach their final destination, in which case they do a little dance to celebrate. Inevitably, along the way, Swiper the Fox, tries to swipe something important to completing their adventure. The only way to stop Swiper the Fox from "swiping" is to say "Swiper, NO swiping!" (usually a couple of times). If his sneaky swiping is foiled, he cries out "Oh, man!". Somewhere along the way, Sugar has picked this little phrase up. Cracks me up every time. So, for your viewing enjoyment: (Sorry, I took it sideways and can't figure out how to turn it!)

Turning 35

If I am honest, I have always loved my birthday. Since I was a kid, when October rolls around, I begin to get a bit giddy. I love the fall in the first place, the cool days, the changing leaves, the sweatshirt and jeans weather and the anticipation of the holiday season right around the bend. Then, you add "birthday season" on top of that...and I am eager with anticipation. Admittedly, growing up, my birthday was always something of a minor holiday in my family. My younger brother and I had the awe inspiring timing of managing to be born on the same day, three years apart. Technically, I actually chose the day, and he just decided to copy me 3 years later. So, since the day of my third birthday, our shared day has always been double the parties, double the cake, and double the excitement.

So, even as an adult, I find that sense of excitement begins to well up within me at this time of year; a love of the fall, a certain giddiness about the season. At this point, as we are fully into November, my birthday has long come and gone; a fun day, actually a fun weekend/week, full of friends and family and nice surprises. I felt loved and cherished, cared for and honored. My giddiness encouraged and my anticipation justified. Besides welcomed phone calls and thoughtful gifts from family/friends, and a sneaky surprise celebration from my book club, LT took me out to breakfast (The Original Pancake House...serious yumminess) as well as set up an evening out with some dear friends. We had a wonderful dinner out and attended a play, Much Ado About Nothing, at the theater complex in downtown Denver. It was wonderful! Along the way, we learned NOT to be late to the theater. If you are late, they make you sit in the special "late person" section watching the play on a only slightly adequate video feed, until they can seat your party, by order of lateness, in the easiest to access seats. (Note to self: In another three years, when we go see a production again, do NOT be late.) Even with the "late penalty"(which truly only added adventure to the evening), we had a sweet time. It is amazing how having three small children makes the quiet evening out, with other adult friends, a true novelty to be enjoyed.

All this is to say, I find myself feeling a bit reflective. Turning 35 feels like a bit of a marker, a birthday with a bit more of a "bump" to it. Not a big bump, just a small moment to go "Hmmm", but somehow still a moment with a little more weight to it than some of the other years I have recently come through. Maybe it is because so many of the "warnings" you hear about with preventative medicine and giving birth and "increased risk" seem to start with the "for 35 and older" label. It feels like this subtle transition from "young adult" to "adult". Basically, I can no longer deny that I am a grown up. I am realizing that in my head, I no longer think of myself as a child play acting like I am an adult, who just happens to have adult responsibilities, but I am beginning to actually think of myself as an adult with adult responsibilities. Funny, that after 15 years or more of officially being an adult, I am actually beginning to feel like one. Not that this mental shift has just somehow just mysteriously happened on my 35th birthday, but it is the result of in a quiet shift in season. Strange. Slightly silly, but true none-the-less.

I will leave you with this birthday picture of me and the kids. Sugar, in this picture, felt that she needed to assert her independence be sitting a couple feet away while eating her baggie of Life cereal. A moment in time commentary on the changing whims of her toddler personality.

A Day in the Life of a Soccer Mom

I'm a soccer mom.

It's true.

I accept it.

I suspect for some, this would be a hard truth to embrace. For me, it is simply part of who I am. I have a child who plays soccer. Eventually, I will probably have more than one child playing soccer. I live in the suburbs. I'm a moderate politically. Soccer mom. I don't drive a minivan, but I do drive a slightly overlarge SUV. I have three kids. I like Starbucks (actually it borders on obsession) and any restaurant with a drive-through. Most importantly, I spend a good chunk of my time driving to soccer, e-mailing about soccer, bringing snacks to soccer, and hanging out at the not-far-off-from-mass-chaos games of six year olds.

Please understand, I actually LIKE soccer. I played in high-school, so I feel it is not some fluke or whim of societal pressure that brings me to the point of encouraging my children to play soccer. Somehow, in my inner self, my actually playing soccer when I was younger justifies my children playing as not just jumping on some suburban bandwagon. Perhaps I am simply deceiving myself. I like to think not.

In all seriousness, soccer is a great sport. Lots of running, lots of exercise, lots of team...stuff. Slugger is actually very enthusiastic in his participation. It fits in with his love of all sports worldview. At the moment, he actually prefers to call soccer, "football", like the rest of the non-U.S. world. Although very culturally aware of him, this tends to create frequent confusion for his soccer mommy . When he asks questions like, "When is the football game?", or "What was the score of the football game?"...my answers tend to be along the lines of ..."The Broncos are on tonight.", or "Huh?".

So, for at least one more Saturday this fall, my life will involve cleats, shin-guards, and kid's snack foods. We will pack up the three kiddos, the captain's chairs, the "Go Navy" water bottle, and head out for our weekend ritual. We will grab a Starbucks, set up our "station" on the sidelines of a slightly makeshift field and enjoy the sun and the community of other parents and families committed to spending their Saturdays cheering on a mob of "Under 7" boys. We will watch as they learn in yet another venue of their lives how to work hard, keep going when tired, not cry when you don't get your way, and not to rub it in when others aren't having as good a game as you. Life skills us adults do well to remember. Meanwhile, I am learning not to yell louder than the coach (it is a little confusing for the kids), to keep an eye on my almost-2-year-old so she doesn't take off with anyone's keys or water bottles, and to juggle actually watching the game with gabbing with the other parents.

So, for at least this short section of my life...I am a soccer mom.

I accept it.

I embrace it.

I love it.

LT's Big Fish Story

So..LT went fishing. Apparently, he did lots of fishing. Mind you, I wasn't actually present to verify the fishing, but I am told pictures don't lie. In this case, the pictures are of some pretty-good sized fish, at least pretty-good sized trout. I am also told that it is pretty-good fun to go fly fishing for these pretty-good sized trout. I am not sure that I would agree with that statement, but I will grant that fly-fishing is pretty-high on LT's

"Favorite-Things-To-Do" list. I personally am glad that the trout did not actually make it to my doorstep to verify their capture with their shiny, ooky presence. They were judiciously "catch-and-released" back into the river to swim free again. Not that I have an issue with eating fishies, I just don't personally care to consume them.

In all (or at least a little more) seriousness, LT spent four days up in Wyoming fishing with some buddies. One of his friends is a member of a fishing club that owns rights to a section of river and a rustic cabin up that way. So, LT jumped at the chance to go relax, wade around a river all day, and catch some of the biggest trout he has ever captured fly-fishing. He came back sun-burned, scruffy, and with his fly-fishing need satisfied for the time-being. (Actually, he is already itching to go again. )

I will leave you with this parting picture of LT's fishing buddy, JJ, smooching a fish. A little strange, but very amusing. Hey, I'm glad fun was had by all. However, I am still particularly glad that none of those shiny, ooky trout made it home.

Wipe Carnage and Other Tales of Toddler Mayhem

Oh, the days of motherhood. Sweet kisses, cute faces, and sheer exasperation. Sugar, my 1 and 1/2 year old daughter, is sweet, just like her name, but she also has a good dose of spunk and adventure. Enough spunk to cause her mother to sigh and take a moment to breathe deeply and calmly on a fairly regular basis.

Yesterday, I seemed to need to pause and take those calming, deep breaths a few more times than usual. At the risk of encouraging some of this carnage as "cute", I took a couple pictures for your viewing pleasure.

First, we have the "wipe carnage". Apparently, she learned from Daddy that she could remove the sticker seals from a new box of wipes and stick them on her belly. Not only is it great fun to have stickers on your belly...but it also fun to take the wipes out and spread them all over the house. Mom (that would be me) was ignorant of this new skill and left an entire box of Costco wipe packages within easy reach. Needless to say, I came upon the battlefield, shrewn with the carcasses of helpless wipes, with much dismay. Deep breath, calm voice, don't laugh.

If only this were the first such incident of the day. Earlier in the afternoon, I had walked outside to smell something peculiar. Something "poopy" smelling. After some investigation, I discovered that Sparkle (4) and her visiting friend had thought it would be interesting to use the Tonka excavator to scoop a fresh pile of doggy dung into the back of the waiting Tonka school bus. This little feat was attempted by preschoolers, mind you, and not particularly neatly done. After washing up, changing some "damaged" pants, and discussing the greater ills of playing with dog excrement, we moved on with our day.

Shortly thereafter, Sugar woke up from her nap. I sat her on a stool at the counter to have a piece of bread for snack. Apparently, I did not remove the bread bag from her general vicinity. Big mistake. I came back from attending to something else to find she had reached over, grabbed the bread bag and preceded to remove every piece of bread, taking at least one bite out of each slice. One lone slice of bread survived. Good thing that is all I need to make a sandwich for Slugger's lunch.

That was yesterday.

Today, Sugar decided to have lunch sitting ON the counter.

Deep breath, calm voice, don't laugh.

Rabbit Moon

Just finished the book, Rabbit Moon by J.D. Payne. It is a bit of an obscure book...it is even a bit hard to find on Amazon (but it is there!). It came to me via my Alaskan relatives. It is a bit like a Tony Hillerman novel, but with more emphasis on the characters and relationships than the details of the mystery. Although the suspense was most definitely there. The main character, Marin Sinclair, is an anglo woman who spent most of her teenage years on the Navajo Reservation. She is a woman conflicted by many things, including the difficulty of reconciling the Navajo culture with her own. It is well written book, with lots of interesting tidbits about the Navajo, but I do have to warn you that the ending left me feeling vaguely unsatisfied. I still have some questions that feel unanswered.

If you live near me and want to borrow it...give me a holler.

Up the Alaskan Highway

First, a little background. My background. Just to get us all on the same page. Even though I now live in the beautiful and colorful state of Colorado, I actually spent most of my childhood (from age four to eighteen) in Salt Lake City, Utah. (Now...just be clear for those of you who are making assumptions...NO, I am not Mormon, and YES, I do ski). I spent many a pleasant day in the mountains near Salt Lake, skiing, hiking, biking and even just sitting around. It is the home of my childhood. My family, however, no longer resides anywhere close to SLC. In fact, most of them now live about as far away as you can get and still be in the USA. My brother, now known to my kids as Uncle D and his lovely wife, Auntie K, moved up to the utterly gorgeous state of Alaska almost eight years ago. They have spent the last couple years up in a small town off the Alaskan Highway nearer to Fairbanks. (If you want to hear more about them...check out the "My Cute Nephew" link...Auntie K does a fabulous job on her blog!) My mom & dad, known to the grandchildren as Granny & Grandaddy, got the adventuring bug about three years ago. After 27 years of living in SLC, my dad accepted a job in Anchorage. My folks packed up, sold the house, and moved the whole homestead (including 500 lbs of rock collection) up to Anchorage. So that leaves me, and Auntie Jessica, as the only immediate family that still live "down outside" (in the lower 48 States).

All this is to say that when I go visit my family, I get to do what most tourists long to do... I travel to the Great White North. So, this past June, I packed up the kids and made the five and a half hour plane flight to Anchorage. (LT came up later.) Other than a lap baby who thought my face looked more like a pin cushion for her finger and a slight incident that soaked one of our seat cushions, we made it to Anchorage without me going completely crazy.

We spent a few days at my folks, riding bikes, taking walks and visiting the local indoor water park. Then we packed up again and took off driving, along with a lot of baby boomers in RVs, up the Alaskan Highway. We took two days to drive the long way (8 hours) to my brother's house. Did I mention that Alaska in really, really, really big?

Here's a picture I got of Mt. McKinley or Denali as it is known locally. The tallest mountain in North America. It is so big that it creates its own weather. If you look closely at this picture, you can see the peak coming through the top of the clouds. This is taken from a viewpoint off the highway.

We spent a night in a little cabin near Denali National Park. My kids didn't sleep too well with the midnight sun (it really doesn't get very dark even in the early a.m.) coming through the not-so-dark window curtains. But we had fun seeing a little of the park and checking out the sled dog demonstration. Here is Grandaddy, Sparkle, Slugger, (and the tip of Sugar's head in the backpack) pretending to ride the sled.

From Denali, we drove up through Fairbanks and on to Uncle D & Auntie K's house. At the time, they were living in a rental while they were building (literally building themselves) their new place. Since then, they have been living on their land in a tent trailer and will soon be moving into the basement while they finish the rest of their house. It was Slugger's first time meeting his cute little red-headed cousin, Squirt Boy. Slugger was very, very excited. Here is a picture of the of Uncle D, Auntie K, and Squirt boy on the front porch of their new house. Did I mention they are doing a fabulous job building it?

LT, meanwhile, flew in to Fairbanks. I went to pick him up in the early a.m. of June 21 - the Summer Solstice - or the longest day of the year. When his flight got in an hour late at 2:30 a.m. LT commented, "Wow...it is really light outside." It really was light outside...at 2:30 a.m. Technically, the sun is actually down at that time, but it is still dusky, not truly dark. It is very surreal. Despite getting a lot less sleep than usual, we really never felt tired. It is amazing how our bodies respond to the light.

Here's Uncle D with Squirt Boy. Gotta love that red hair!

We went to the lake, ate at the local drive-in and saw lots of moose! The kiddos and I actually saw a mama & her twin mooselets (what is a baby moose called?) walking about 100 yards from the rental house. Very cool! Here's Grandaddy, Sparkle, Slugger, and Uncle D going for a canoe ride.

LT & Uncle Dan went fly-fishing on the Clear Water River. They floated down the river and caught graylings. While on their expedition they saw a moose hanging out in the river. Here's Uncle D with a grayling and LT fishing...

We had a great time visiting. My family is dear to me and I enjoyed the time spent together. LT flew back to Colorado and Granny, Grandaddy, the kiddos and I headed back down (the shorter way) to Anchorage and eventually we returned to Colorado. But...I savored the time well spent with those I love and can now say I have seen more of Alaska (a lot more) than just Anchorage.

Here's one last picture of the cousins...Slugger, Sugar, Squirt Boy, & Sparkle Girl.

Two Old Women

I just finished the book, Two Old Women: An Alaska Legend of Betrayal, Courage and Survival by Velma Willis. It's a really quick read...took me only a couple hours. I admit it has been sitting on my shelf for a while...not my usual genre. But...I have to say, that once I sat down to read it the story was truly compelling. I pulled it off the shelf and started the story while lying on my stomach, propped up on my elbows, only to re-emerge 30 minutes later when my shoulders started falling asleep.

The book is based on an Athabascan Indian legend that has been passed down by generations. It is a simple story on the most basic level that has a depth of moral and relational interactions that I keep going back over and over again in my mind. Not only does it give you insight into a different culture (which I find intriguing), but it speaks to more cross-cultural truths about determination, forgiveness, and community. Definitely worth the quick read. Thanks to Dan & Kat for giving it to me!

First Kid Camping Trip

I love to camp. Really & truly. I grew up going camping with my family all over the western USA. I love drinking multiple cups of hot chocolate on a cold morning, watching the stars at night in their full God-given splendor, or just finding a comfy, quiet place to sit and read a book. I find myself wonderfully overwhelmed by the magnitude of beauty that is God's creation. It is a time of fun, but also of sweet peace and rest.

My dear hubby, LT, enjoys camping as well, although being a Minnesota boy, he would take a nice cabin in the woods any day. But he also likes camping and backpacking, particularly if fly fishing is somehow involved.

Yet, somehow in the six years since LT and I have had children, we have never managed to actually get out and go camping. We have hit a few nice cabin trips, but we have never done anything remotely involving camping. The prospect of camping with the kiddos has always been a bit much for us. It's not the prospect of taking the older kiddos camping that intimidates us, but rather the idea of taking a baby. Having had three kids, all 2 - 2 1/2 years apart, we have always had a baby or toddler in one form or the other. Having to bring along a pack-n-play, multiple layers of pjs, diapers, and sippy cups, plus being prepared to be woken up at the first crack of light or being kept up most of the night...these are the aspects that throw us into "Do we really want to do this?" mode. But, this past weekend, we finally decided to gather our courage and give tent camping a try. We went with some dear friends who have kiddos similar in age to ours. They, however, are much more experienced with the whole "camping with kids" scenerio and weren't intimidated in the least with what to bring, how to manage all the stuff, and how to fit all this stuff into a car already filled with three kids, two adults and one dog prone to carsickness (actually, that was us...our friends don't have a dog).

I must confess, the trip didn't get off to a good start for us. We got out of the city later than expected, hit the Friday night rush into the mountains, got stuck in construction, had a slightly fussy baby, and LT realized he had forgotten his fishing rod. Then, to make matters worse, we missed the turn-off and drove 20 extra miles. By the time we got to the campground, it was getting dusky. We took a road that looked like a loop of the campground only to find out it was just a four-wheel drive road. While the kids were saying, "Wheeeee" to all the bumps, the dog's (Lucy's) Dramamine wore off and she threw up. With puke contained to a blanket and one red Croc, we turned around and pulled into our campsite with the sun getting low. With us a bit frazzled, our worried friends (we were really late by then) helped us set up camp and feed our children.

After a bumpy start, and a iffy first night's sleep, the rest of the trip went well. The kids loved camping. They got dirty, wet, chased each other with sticks and got to sleep in a tent.

Our middle daughter, age 4, who prefers to be called Sparkle Girl or Wonder Woman right now, thrived on camping. It was completely Sparkle's element...dirt, dirt and more dirt plus sleeping bags, friends and rocks to arrange. Here she is sporting her spunky hair, mosquito bitten nose, and hot chocolate covered jacket.

Our son, Slugger, age 6. also enjoyed camping. He got to sleep in a tent with his buddy, go exploring, eat smores, hunt imaginary foes, and generally have a rough and tumble time. Here he is chowing on a smore with his buddy. Yummy.

Our baby, Sugar, now age 1 1/2 years, was a real champ. She lost her shoes frequently, discovered she liked marshmellows, and generally was a trooper. She, like Sparkle, was a different shade of dirt when she got home.

All in all, the kids had a blast. It was great experience for them and for us. But, I think that it is good that we get almost a full year before we will think about whether we will go next summer.

Tending Roses

The inspiration for my blog title and address come from one of my favorite books, Tending Roses, by Lisa Wingate. The book is a sweet book about small towns and family. In the book, one of the main characters, who is now older and wiser, speaks of her rose garden, noting that those times when her garden ran wild, when her children were small or her life was full of family and friends, were some of her best and most cherished memories. So, for me, who is now in the thick of changing diapers, chasing toddlers, learning elementary school bus routes, and rarely having a clean house, a fully weeded yard, or a neatly organized picture collection, I frequently remind myself that the garden of little growing things that I am tending now is certainly much more important than the one growing outside my window. I hope frequently that my "Wild Roses" are not just a sign of apathy, but an indication of time well spent elsewhere. Of course, in my spare moments, I love to see scrapbooks get organized, flowers get planted, and rooms get painted, but I hope that I will not miss the important moments and enjoy living in the now.

The purpose of this blog is to share those "now" moments with you. It is hard when we live so far from each other to share the little and big moments that make up our lives, so I am hoping the pictures and stories I post help you get glimpses of our family and the reasons the roses run wild in my yard. (Ok...just so you know, I don't actually have any roses...but it sounds better that way!)

Love,

P